


Interval

by ishouldwritethatdown



Series: Useless Rinch Trash [3]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Domestic, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, date, john being nervous and cute, the usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-23 20:19:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7478556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishouldwritethatdown/pseuds/ishouldwritethatdown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John takes Harold to the opera because his love for his boyfriend exceeds his complete and utter aversion to what is, in his eyes, a disgrace to music and also to humanity. But at least any date can be fixed with ice cream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interval

**Author's Note:**

> this is very short and i have very little knowledge of theatres but i wrote like 3000 words of angst and i needed to get it out of my system

When everyone in the theatre started applauding and the curtains drew closed, John thought for a second that the ordeal might actually be over. That would've been a pleasant surprise.

But, no, it was just the interval. Of course it was.

"I'm going to stretch my legs," he told Harold, and he shuffled awkwardly out of the aisle of seats. Most people were wandering down to the gift shop to occupy their fifteen minutes of freedom.

John was having a tough time remembering that some people actually enjoyed the opera for some god forsaken reason.

They were seated in the middle of the upper circle, which weren't bad seats. John wished he could've booked the tickets earlier, though, because then they might not have had to deal with the stairs at all.

As it was, they had had to queue for the elevator which was being taken up by lazy pricks who didn't need it. Harold didn't complain. Probably because he was used to it. John wished he didn't have to be.

He wandered around the gift shop a little, but he didn't intend to buy anything. Until he spotted the ice cream being served at the counter.

Who the hell pays $5 for one scoop of ice cream? Well, him apparently. He payed for two and hopped back up the stairs.

"I got us ice creams," he announced as he shuffled his way back to where Harold was reading the programme in his seat.

Harold took his tub with surprise. "Thank you, Mr. Reese." As he took the first spoonful, he said, "I must admit I thought you might've taken the opportunity to flee the theatre."

John went red. "No, why- why would you think that?"

Harold made a "come on" face. "It's quite clear you're not enjoying the opera, John. Didn't you once refer to it as the dying wail of a cat?"

"No, I- I mean I- It's not-" he caught the twinkle of amusement in Harold's eye and sighed. "Okay, it's not... my favourite thing in the world." He was acutely grateful to the ice cream for cooling his burning cheeks. He was a spy and he couldn't even pretend to enjoy the opera.

"I was surprised to receive the invitation," Harold admitted. "And I was even more surprised that our plans weren't disrupted with work."

John really hoped Harold didn't suspect that he had got Root and Fusco to handle a number by themselves so that they could have the night off. And made them promise not to tell Finch. Because that was exactly what he had done.

"Maybe the universe actually decided to give us a break for once," John joked.

Harold smiled. "You know, you didn't have to buy two tickets. I could have gone alone, if you hate the opera that much."

"Ah, it's not that bad," John lied. He had no idea what was going on and it seemed to be enduring for a thousand years. "Anyway, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't accompany you on your birthday treat?" His tongue got a little stuck in his throat at "boyfriend". It was the first time either of them had said it. He watched carefully for Harold's reaction.

He seemed nonplussed by the word, instead frowning and saying, "Mr. Reese, my birthday-"

"-is a mystery," John finished, grinning, "but it's not fair that you get to celebrate my birthday and I don't even get to know when yours is, so this is your birthday treat even if your birthday is in six months' time."

Harold smiled in a bemused, but charmed, way, and scooped some more of the ice cream out of the tub.

A bell rang, and a clear voice announced, "Five minutes remaining in the interval."

"To answer the real question you were asking, John," Harold began, "'boyfriend' is just fine by me." He looked John in the eyes and smiled.

John's face broke out in a grin that was a bizarre mix of relief and nerves. Harold put down his empty ice cream tub - seriously, $5 for one tiny scoop of ice cream? - and held out his hand to John. He took it and felt the reassuring warmth spreading across his palm.

"Happy birthday, Harold," John said quietly. The vacant seats in the theatre were all being filled again as people returned with mediocre and overpriced souvenirs from the shop.

Harold responded with a small, silent laugh. A pause, then, "You're not going to sing to me, are you?"


End file.
